Love's Heaven and Hell
by nbgangelova
Summary: Destiny is a "Warrior", a girl who the world's existance depends on. Two angels, Vincent and Markus come to protect her. Then a demon, Judiah, is added to the mix. Will love's heaven and hell bring this world, and a girl's heart, to a dreadful end?
1. Chapter 1

I always thought there were two sides to life.

One side was where you can walk without falling, and that the pathway before you was visible. But as much as I want to deny it, my life has always been on the other side. The side where you can't even see your hands in front of you, and every few steps you fall. At times, you get up, and trip over your own feet right after. At others, you don't even want to try standing.

I am Destiny Anna Will, and my side of life is blind.

People have said that I am the luckiest person in the world. When I was thirteen years old, I was walking down Main St. in New York City, singing to myself. A woman in a nearby Starbucks got off her expensive phone and called me over. Out of her bra, she pulled out a card and said to me, "Give me a call. You have the skills to be a star."

That's it.

They've also said that I was lucky that I had movie star looks. I see it as a downfall in my life. Looks can only take you so far.

So many strangers complimented my brownish, golden colored hair so constantly that it was harassing. But, the scariest part of me was my eyes. People have even jumped back when they saw my eyes. There is silver around the pupil, and around that ring was another of dark purple. That's what I was well known as at times, in New York City.

Two weeks later my mother and father met that woman, and they thought it was a great idea for me to be a star.

I am now seventeen years old, with almost everything on my mind at such a young age. My manager—which was the woman at the Starbucks—is talking on her cell phone to the person in control of the Emmy Awards. I was in a private jet, listening to the song that was playing on my black iPOD.

Sometimes I can get so sick of my own songs.

My manager looked over at me as she closed her phone. She smiled, "Well, thanks to me, you are in the first row at the Emmys. We will get to Las Angeles in a day, and stay at the Grand Hotel."

I nodded as I turned off my iPOD.

I sighed, "Donna…are you sure I can win an Emmy award?" I asked.

Donna rolled her eyes as she laughed at my statement. She answered my question when she calmed down. "At least you were nominated. Even being nominated would get you in _People_ _Magazine_."

I looked out my window. Everything, ever since that dreaded walk down Main St., had been business. Donna said, 'practice makes perfect', but what I think she's really saying is, 'if you don't get in front of that microphone, I am going to wave your burning hit CD albums in your face.'

She would do that, if she had too.

I looked behind my seat, over at my best friend Kyle Owens. He's eighteen, and also my bodyguard. He's tall and muscular for his age, but that's what made him so different than the usual "weaklings"—as he calls them—because he was more masculine.

I used to have feelings for him, but ever since I realized that he wasn't the right "material", I couldn't ask him out. Another reason is that I don't want a huge stampede of paparazzi to attack him and me. Even if he _could_ get through a group of twenty in less than a minute.

He smiled at me, and then looked down at his cell phone. His fingers put in texts, and then he pressed send.

I looked down at my iPhone as it rang. I saw the text message, where it said, "I'm so bored! =^J".

I laughed quietly, making sure that Donna didn't hear. Recently she's been really at ends with me and Kyle being friends. She thought that if I got a boyfriend, he should be a fellow star.

I text back, 'me 2! I cWtwGt!" that was our little sign that meant "can't wait 'til we get there!"

I heard him chuckle quietly.

Donna turned towards us and gave us a warning to knock it off, or _she's_ knocking Kyle off the private jet. It was a joke, but at times….

I stood up and walked to the back of the jet—where my parents, Ron and Sarah Will were sitting—and sat in a row next to them.

I sighed, "Do you guys know when we're landing?"

My father looked up from his laptop, "I think we're landing tomorrow morning. But I'm not totally sure."

My little brother, Ian—who is thirteen—looked up from his Nintendo DS. He groaned, "Why the heck are we going to California anyway? For a stupid Emmy Award, doohickey?"

My mother glance over at him with _that look_, "Ian, you know mighty well that your sister is now a singer and that you are coming along."

Despite my mom's small confirmation, I looked over at Ian and shrugged, "Who knows, you might be able to meet that girl Dakota, or something. I think she's fourteen or something around there."

Ian cocked an eyebrow at me, "Like she would be at the Emmys! Besides, I don't like blondes."

Ian had dark brown hair, with hazel green eyes that always made him look serious, even when he was trying to be carefree. It was scary at times.

…

We finally landed in Sacramento, California in a private airport. I sighed as I walked out of the jet. Just as I expected, paparazzi were climbing out of vans with large cameras. Women and men with microphones ran up to the front of the stairs that reached from the door to the ground.

Kyle stood in front of me, spreading his arms out to push the people out of the way. Bright lights came from cameras, and the first woman called out, "Destiny Will is being nominated for an Emmy. Destiny, is this one of the greatest moments of your life?"

I shrugged with a smile, "Well, it's an honor but not the greatest moment. The greatest moment in my life will probably be when I finally see my bodyguard settle down."

A man called out, "If you win the Emmy, which direction do you think your singing career will go?"

I went up the steps of a tour bus, calling behind my shoulder, "It's going in the direction of home!"

All the paparazzi laughed as the RV closed its doors. I went to the back of the RV and flopped on the couch. We were driving the whole way there, because I cannot handle being on a plane for too long.

"I just don't get it, Kyle," I said while munching on chips, "Why would someone want a chunk of my hair?"

Kyle and I were looking at our laptops, wondering what was going on in the outside world.

Kyle shrugged as he answered, "I think they just think that if they had a piece of your hair they could be like you."

I rolled my eyes. Who'd want to be like me?

I looked down at a little Youtube video and clicked it.

It was the title,

"Destiny's Destiny!!!"

A young boy, about Ian's age, came up in front of the camera. He narrowed his eyes at me and held up the last CD album I've recently made.

I kept watching as the boy shook the CD, "Whom was this made by? You're right! The most idiotic singer in the world!"

I widened my eyes, staring down at the boy who had a serious face. He continued, "So far, her songs are great, but look at her personal life! She still a virgin, and hasn't even kissed a guy yet! She's way too innocent to be singing these kinds of songs. Why doesn't she just go out and get Zac Effron or someone, and give her songs some truth!"

I looked over at Kyle, who was also wide-eyed.

Kyle finally calmed down and said to me, "Well, it is true, y'know. You've barely even dated."

I rolled my eyes at him, "Well, duh! I mean, I don't like bringing personal things into my celebrity life! I don't want to get caught up in that shit!"

He shrugged as he chuckled, "Some guys would want that."

I nodded. It was true.

I looked over at Kyle, who was typing a documentary-looking thing. I cocked an eyebrow.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Kyle kept his eyes on his laptop, typing away quickly.

He soon answered me. "I am writing a college recommendation to get into UCLA."

I widened my eyes. I knew Kyle was an amazing artist, but I never thought he wanted that to be his occupation. I always thought that he wanted to be my bodyguard until my fame died out. But I guess he had something else ahead of his future, also.

I frowned, "You're leaving, huh?"

He nodded as he looked over at me, "Yeah. But I've been around for quite awhile don't you think?"

I shrugged and agreed with him, "Yeah, I guess. I am going to miss you though."

And I was.

Kyle and I knew each other since I was thirteen and he was fifteen. He and I met when his father was hired to be my bodyguard because people were starting to gang up on me. We clicked so quickly I thought we would be best friends forever. He was always so funny and outgoing, until just a year ago.

His father—who was my ex-bodyguard—Howard Owens, was protecting me when a man with a gun came up. He tried to shoot me because he thought that I was a demon because of my "wicked" eyes.

So, Howard jumped in front of me and was shot right in the heart.

Kyle was there at the time, walking beside me. And when he saw his father fall to the ground, he just froze. I would think that he would run to his father. But he didn't.

My manager was inside the recording building's lobby, and when she heard the gunshot she automatically ran outside.

But it was too late. Howard was gasping for air, and by the time the ambulance was there, he said these last words to Kyle,

"Protect Destiny, my son…"

I felt sorry for Kyle when both father and son started to cry. His father didn't say, "I love you" or "I'll be in your heart".

But all he said was to protect _me_. And I hated that.

I was crying because Howard and I were like two peas in a pod. But Kyle, as much as he was bawling, he looked serious the whole time. Angry, sort of. It seemed as if his father's death was nothing to him but a burden. And to this day, I always had this slight grudge against Kyle—that he didn't take his father's life and death, to heart.

I frowned and kept playing that scene in front of the recording studio in my mind over and over and over again. Soon I realized that it was time to come clean about everything. Maybe Kyle had forgotten the promise that his father wanted him to keep. Or maybe…

He was _trying_to forget…

I looked over at Kyle now with tears wanting to fill my eyes. But I'm strong, so I kept them from coming. I spoke solidly to him, "Don't you remember?"

Kyle glanced over at me with an innocent look on. He furrowed his eyebrows together, "Remember what?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, hoping that he would know what I was saying. But he was clueless.

"The promise between you and your dad…"

Kyle took off the innocent face and replaced it with a mournful/angry one. He looked back down at the laptop.

"I didn't promise anything."

I widened my eyes at him, even though he couldn't see.

How dare he say that!

How _dare_ he!

"Don't you even care about what your father said?!" I asked, getting louder now.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen and just held that grimace across his mouth. I lowered my eyelids as I stood up from the couch.

"Do you even care about your father?"

Kyle loosened his face and made it turn blank. No expression. No feeling came to it. He closed his eyes and lowered his head.

I took a glance at him, feeling the anger bubbling up inside both my head and my heart. He couldn't even deny it. He didn't care. He didn't feel a thing about it.

I felt tears weld up in my eyes now as I walked away.

I've never cried in front of people. The only time was when Howard died, and that was it. Whenever I felt like there were tears coming, I would simply walk away from the scene and be alone.

Crying to me has always seemed like a weakness or an imperfection. I was raised to feel, but born to hide from the world. Those things to me are nothing but a mistake. A mistake God has made.

I sat on my bed with the whole world coming in, and my feelings going out. Everything I had forgotten—and tried to forget—are now coming back to me. A rush came so fast, I couldn't steer my way through. Storms are coming through the bright sky, and the sea has turned to ice and rock.

No more smooth sailing for me.

I looked over to the side of me. I saw a picture of all those I had once loved. All who were now dead….

Each picture held a story behind them, and ones that shouldn't be heard again. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, thinking about my dead best friend, Tiffany…

Her death wasn't sudden at all. She was born with a tumor and even though she got it removed, her cancer kept bringing back new ones. Everyone knew she was going to die soon. But no one knew it would be _that_ soon.

It was only two years ago, when I was walking into her hospital room, visiting. She looked so fragile and weak, there in that hospital bed. Not like the girl I watch run in front of others in PE, and stand for her beliefs and rights in front of everyone. She was afraid of nothing, when her cancer was still in the beginning stages.

But at that time, when I saw her with pale skin and bald, she looked like the world has suddenly turned its back on her. She looked small now. I came over and sat next to her, and I put my hand on her arm.

And then, at that moment, her heart beat suddenly turned faster.

I stepped back, and took my hand off. But it just sped up. That's all I remember. Everything else seemed blank.

Maybe I passed out at that moment.

I felt like it was my fault, but Donna and my parents said that it was just the natural way of things. Kyle said nothing.

Kyle feels nothing from a person's death…

There was a sudden knock at the door. I quickly wiped my eyes with my arm. I coughed slightly, quickly swallowing all the sniffles.

I looked up at the door.

"Yes?" I asked.

The door creaked open, revealing half of Kyle's body. I looked out the window, seeing the moving scenery.

"What do you want?" I hissed.

Kyle tilted his head and started walking in the room. He folded his arms, "C'mon, Destiny…you know how I feel about my father's death."

I looked over at him, trying not to cry again. Sometimes I can't even hide it. "I don't, Kyle. You seem like you had forgotten about it."

He shook his head and sat next to me on the bed, "Destiny, you don't know that."

I scoffed and held my hands on either side of my on the bed spread.

"That's the reason exactly. I don't know how you feel about it because you act as if you don't care about it—as if it didn't affect anybody."

Kyle smiled and sort of scoffed at himself. He put an arm around my shoulder and held me close to him, "It might seem like that, but Destiny…His death took a huge toll on me. I just couldn't take it then and I can't take it now."

I sighed, "Yeah. I guess you're right. But, was being my bodyguard and taking your father's place such a burden?" I asked.

Kyle chuckled as he took his arm off my shoulder, "The burden was much more than just being your body guard, Destiny."

The bus came to a screeching halt. Kyle and I looked at each other, until we heard Donna and my mother scream at the top of their lungs. I was the first to head out the door. Kyle followed behind with his alert eyes.

A teenage boy, with blonde hair and lemon yellow eyes stared coldly at the people in the RV. He was almost as tall as Kyle. The boy was about 6'3", while Kyle is 6'5". I stood the smallest of the three at 5'3". My parents were in deep shock, and my brother was just jaw-dropped. Donna was about to call 911 when I held up a hand.

"Wait!"

The boy looked over at me with a slight surprise in his eyes. He narrowed his eyes at me, and then looked over to Kyle.

The boy seemed like someone I knew from somewhere. There was this sort of glow around him, and he seemed extremely stern and serious. My eyes suddenly went into the direction of a scar that ran right at the top eyelid, and ran midway down his cheek. It went in a zigzag shape, and looked like a slight lightning bolt.

The boy turned towards Kyle. He smiled a smile that showed his glistening white teeth, "_Pre-Protector_, did Howard's soul come yet?"

Kyle stood there, while everyone turned their gazes towards him.

I was just full of questions.

How did he know Kyle?

What does he mean by 'Howard's soul'?

….

But….

Most importantly, what's a _Pre-Protector_?

Kyle suddenly stopped faking being scared, and toughened up. He lowered his head, and closed his eyes. The next words he said were just unbelievable…

"Ganaya mutura lia nakahr seeawm belleed…"

I almost jumped when a great fire of gold came from Kyle's hands, and streamed out into curls in the sky. I watched, in fear—and slight awe—as it formed a body of a person. This was the most amazing things I've ever seen. I stepped backwards, as the ball of golden fire turned towards me.

I widened my eyes, as it held its hand out and touched my forehead. It burned like hell. All I did was wince at it.

My parents stood up, afraid of what was happening to their daughter. The "spirit"-looking thing spoke words as its crystal eyes bore into mine…

"Suma nehaska puremino…"

Then he boomed the last word, causing a whole light go throughout the bus—

"Warrior!"

I looked around myself, feeling a blurry fuzz in my mind. I closed my eyes tightly, as the golden fire stepped back and put his arm to his side.

He/she walked over to the boy with the freaky eyes and fracture into dust. Then, strangely enough, the dust was sucked into a small crystal ball that hung around the boy's neck. The boy looked over at Kyle and suddenly spoke loudly, but in a teenage, human-like voice—

"You, _Pre-Protector_. It's your time to end your sacrifices made by the very blood you came from."

And with that, Kyle's legs gave out, and he fell to the carpeted floor…

The teenage boy disappeared, and so did my anger towards Kyle.

I ran towards him with tears welding up in my eyes. I bent down next to his limp body and shook his shoulders.

I yelled, "Kyle! Kyle! This can't be happening to you! Kyle!!"

My father ran up and pulled me away from the dead body. I cuddled into my dad and sobbed, "Dad…I don't understand what's happening. Everyone around me is dying…"

13


	2. Chapter 2

I lay in my bed, looking at the ceiling of the RV. It has been two weeks since that day.

I have a new picture added in my collection of those I had once loved. People in my life were dying left and right, each one having a special story behind it.

But the one I was scared of the most was Kyle's.

He just…disappeared when that boy said to, with no opinion or objection. He just stood there, expecting his own death. And not fearing it.

I looked in the mirror that hung on the door. It suddenly rattled from a speed bump underneath the RV, shaking the reflection. I squinted at it, looking at a little mark on my forehead that the ball of golden fire had burned onto me. It was just a small, bulky cross shape.

There was a light knock at the door, and I quickly looked up to see my manager come into the room. Donna smiled lightly and rolled her delicate hands together.

"We're almost back to New York City, Destiny. Are you ready for your next session?" She asked. Donna was mainly concerned of the fact I've been having writer's block.

I sighed and looked down at my folded hands. "I don't know Donna…I just don't have that inspiration I used to have. I mean, ever since…"

I looked down, choking on the words that were coming out of my mouth. Ever since then, I've never been able to say his name out loud. Sometimes, on bad days, I can't even _think_ about it. People around me are as cautious to even speak about the Emmy's (that I had won), because afterward a paparazzi group kept shouting questions on how Kyle died.

Donna looked at me sadly, knowing I wouldn't finish the sentence. She furrowed her eyebrows together. "Destiny, I know that it's hard to come back to the surface after what had happened to him, but we need to move on for your career's sake."

I looked up at her, trying to hold back tears, "I know, Donna."

A smile touched her lips. "I know you do, honey. Now just at least try. For your family?"

"Sure, I'll try."

"Good. Now, we're going to stop in at a restaurant. Are you hungry?"

I tried to smile, but Donna noticed when my lips started to quiver. She tilted her head to the side, "Do you want to stay here, honey?"

I nodded, biting my lower lip. She watched me deeply for a brief second before slowly turning and closing the door behind her.

I felt guilty.

Everyone around me seemed to be at ease and on track. My mother and father have been trying to cheer me up lately, but after the first week, they gave up and shut their mouths.

My little brother just didn't say anything. He and Kyle—I shuddered at thinking the name—were best buddies. He looked at him like an older brother and always followed Kyle's lead. So Ian and I are the ones that are having the roughest time with this whole thing.

Though Ian was actually trying to make a difference in it and move on.

Meanwhile, I sit here and pity my life and my best friend.

…

"We'll be just across the street at the Chili's, so don't be embarrassed to come across the street and join us," My mother cooed.

I looked at her in the corner of my eye. I had occupied myself at the small table in the RV and was writing—or at least _trying_ to write—a new song.

"Thanks mom, but I think I'll be fine here," I gestured toward my work with my pencil, "Besides I need to get caught up before we get to the NYC studio."

My mom smiled lightly. My father called her to hurry up. She looked at me with a deep concern in her eyes.

"Are you sure, Destiny? We can go somewhere more private about a mile away, if you like?" She asked.

"No, mom, I really can't lose my train of thought with this song. Besides, I can't eat."

She nodded once, "Alright honey, don't be afraid to come get me."

"I know."

She closed the door to the RV, leaving it to shake just a slight bit. That's what you get with an RV—constant earthquakes.

I looked back down at my paper, wondering curiously if this song I'm writing should be upbeat or sluggish. With the sad lyrics, I naturally figured it would go slowly.

I paced the room slowly, tapping my forehead with my pencil, thinking impatiently about the rhythm of the song. Would it follow the rhythm of a keyboard or a slow drumming of drums?

Okay, maybe I _am_ getting a little too concerned with this…but I haven't made one in about a month.

I went across the other side of the RV and banged my head against the side of the wall. I groaned loudly, hoping that someone would give me a break. I closed my eyes and held both of my hands to the sides of my head, whispering to myself the same words the boy said…

That day.

"Suma nehaska puremino warrior."

"Suma nehaska puremino warrior."

"Suma nehaska puremino warrior."

"Suma nehaska puremino…"

I kept repeating it until it became one big, udder blur. The words were clinging onto my mind, in my dreams, in my thoughts. I keep hoping that it'll die down, but it keeps escalating, making me go crazy. The little mark burned every time I stepped out to get ice for the fridge or something. It burned, not at the first step, but when I went into a creepy part of a lot—like an alley or a vacant hotel or gas station.

I finally turned around, and grinned to myself, happy for what I just realized.

"If I can't figure it out, then the net will…" I remembered Kyle saying once. I was getting used to thinking his name, but it still tore at that little hole in my heart. I walked over to the small table connected to the beige wall and flipped open the screen of the laptop.

When safari finally opened, I typed "Google" quickly into the text box.

It soon opened up, and I clicked on the "advanced search". I then typed in—foreign language. And then in the other box I typed in _**Suma nehaska puremino**_.

When I clicked search, a large screen popped up. I clicked on the first one that was titled **Angelic Language**

I thought it would be interesting enough, because I knew that it was impossible for an angel to have a different language. Personally, I didn't believe in angels. Nor devils. Nor God or Jesus or Buddha. I just didn't have any thought of importance toward religion or my "after life".

I went down the page and saw a description—

_I recently had a chance to interview a local man in the Appalachian Mountains, whom claims to be part of an angelic tribe._

_There was an ancient tribe back in 100 B.C. that believed that in the mere future the world will corrupt and that God will chose one person that will be a descendent of a holy spy. This person, also known as a _**Warrior, **_will have a Protector. While interviewing this man, he said that the rest of the information is to remain a secret until the Warrior is revealed._

_Marsha Williams_

_NEW YORK TIMES REPORTER_

I widened my eyes to see that the word "warrior" was in the small explanation. I decided to scroll down to look further, seeing if there was anything else to read. There was nothing but a phone number for the NEW YORK TIMES.

I groaned, thinking on whether I should go and grab my phone and dial this number.

Maybe I should just leave it be. Maybe this is just some stupid coincidence—that none of this happened and I'm going crazy or something.

But…

The word warrior, the strange foreign language, the strange glow coming off the boy's skin, and those strange, lemon yellow eyes…

Most importantly, the death of my one and only best friend, the description….

It all fit.

"I can't ignore this…" I finally whispered to myself, reaching over to the side and grabbing the cell phone.

But right before I was about to grasp it with my trembling hand, another hand reached over mine…

It was hot, burning against the upside of my hand. I felt a lump come up in my throat, blocking whatever scream I had. I looked up to see who was holding my hand down.

And when I looked up, I almost jumped to see that there _he_ was.

The boy with the glowing skin, yellowish eyes, and the blonde hair. Staring at me. His lips were in a straight line, and his eyes were so soft but fierce that it brought a sudden stop to my heart. He was…amazingly beautiful.

He narrowed his eyes at me, making it harder for me to breathe.

He leaned towards me.

"You don't want to do that," He whispered, his voice the same honey feeling to it.

I could feel my whole body shut off. My heart was pacing faster than the speed my mind was spinning.

I finally choked out words, trying to sound strong. But I was unsuccessful.

"Who are you…?" I asked weakly.

In a swift movement, he took his hand off mine. I could see that his little golden hue was starting to dim down, causing him to look more humane. But that was impossible for his stunning features and eyes.

"More importantly, who are _you_?"

I furrowed my eyebrows together, wondering why he wouldn't even know who I was if he called me a warrior. Or maybe he wasn't talking to me. Maybe he was talking to Ian or Donna, or my mom or dad. But I slowly answered, feeling my face turn hot.

"Destiny…I'm Destiny Wi—"

He cut me off with a slight shake of his head. "Wrong."

I stood up slowly, watching his calmly serious face as his eyes followed my movements. "But, that _is_ me…I'm Destiny Will."

I saw a slight impatient glare flicker into his eyes, and then disappear. He spoke again. "No. _Who are you_?"

"Okay, are you tormented or something?" I asked, folding my arms.

He clenched his jaw and forced a smile upon his god-like face. "I will be soon if you don't answer me correctly."

I felt all the blood drain from my face. Suddenly I heard a slight knock at the door. The boy's body stiffened in alarm, as he took a slight step backwards.

"I'll be back."

I was alone in the empty front room of the RV.

"Destiny! Hey Destiny, we're going to go down and get some groceries at the store down the street! You want to come?" Ian asked.

Of course, wanting to see that boy again, I opened the RV door in a rush. Ian had his hands in his pockets, waiting casually.

I forced a timid smile upon my face, hoping he would fall for this little lie. Maybe half lie. "Nah, you guys go without me. I got to work."

"Okay, we'll see you later. Need anything?" He asked.

I shook my head.

"Nope. Oh wait!"

He rolled his eyes, "Yeah?"

"Get me some more paper. I've used half of mine, already."

I closed the door after my brother made a little comment on my busy celebrity life. I usually ignore him, but at times it does get a little intimidating. I walked slowly to my room. Hitting my forehead with the knuckles of my clenched fist, I hoped that the boy was just some hallucination.

Maybe he was just some memory that I re-lived. I do that often when I'm dreaming.

I opened the door to my bedroom, hoping that I would sometime wake up from this stupid nightmare. I will see Kyle sitting in the couch, laughing at little comments I make at stupid letters from fans.

Unfortunately, I'm not that creative.

I sighed.

When I came back to earth, I saw someone sitting at the edge of my bed. His hands were folded, and his head was ducked slightly.

I had a sudden flashback, and when the boy looked up, I saw Kyle. His eyes were wide and laughing. There was a smile on his face, warm and inviting. I could hear Kyle's voice in the back of my head.

But then the small memory ended.

I saw the boy, looking up at me with troubled eyes. I jumped; surprised that he was actually real. I stepped sideways slightly, gripping the closet door handle tightly in my small hands, all the while gasping for air.

I could feel his eyes on me as I bent my head forward towards the closet door.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," He finally said, softer than before.

I suddenly stopped breathing, stopped shaking, and felt a warm—not hot—hand on my shoulder. Okay, this wasn't exactly what I needed right now. To die.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

I shook my head and quickly bent forward.

I could feel his confused eyes on me as I banged my head against the closet door. "No. I'm going crazy."

"Why would you be going crazy?" He asked with _true_ concern.

Wow, okay, I _truly_ feel like I'm dreaming right now.

"You would know…you were there…"

The boy dropped his hand, and in one swift step, moved back. I heard a sigh and turned my head towards him.

He shook his head slightly, folding his arms across his chest, causing the sleeves of his shirt to tighten around his muscular arms.

"No. I don't know."

I looked up at him, feeling like grabbing my hair and ripping it out of my head. Was he this stupid, or just a delusional idiot? But somehow I couldn't think like that, because I saw _true_ innocence in his eyes.

"You're an ass…" I finally murmured quietly. Not quite low enough for him not to catch it.

He quickly dropped his arms in a furious move, and I saw his eyes widen with astonishment.

"Excuse me?" He asked, incredulously.

"Never mind. Just—" I choked on these next words, "Just go."

I walked outside of the bedroom doorway, feeling an impatient yet clumsy stride in my step. I was never graceful, except when I tried really hard on stage or in front of cameras. But behind the scenes, my family had to watch out if we were on a hike or something.

I couldn't hear footsteps behind me, but out of nowhere the boy stepped in front of me in a quick and easy glide. "Excuse me. I'm not trying to seem rude, but I can't leave. Not if you don't come with me."

I swallowed hard on the solid lump building up in my throat, feeling a sudden urge to reach behind and grab a knife. But something held me back—a muscle in my arm told me to wait for him to explain.

"What are you, a stalker or something?" I managed to blurt out, with hope in making it sound strong and powerful. But all it came out was in a stained whisper, as if the air was knocked out of me.

Suddenly there was a slight twitch from the corners of his mouth, as if there was something I was missing in his little gesture of actually being here.

"Something like that."

"Why you…"

I decided to take my chances. I lifted my hand to slap him across the face. To show him that I wasn't afraid to hurt him.

But right before I was about to touch him, his hand shot up and grasped my wrist, halting it from going further. It was so fast that I didn't realize it at first. Then his hand started to burn my skin.

His eyes turned fierce as he leaned towards me, his jaw clenched with impatience.

"You don't want to do that," He murmured.

"Watch me."

He grasped my other wrist, holding both them out inches from his chest.

"Think before you do it. It will save you a lot of trouble." A smile flashed upon his face, as if he were enjoying something.

I had no hope but to struggle out of his inhumane grasp. "Let me go! _Now_!!"

He didn't.

I finally opened my eyes to see if he were going to give me a break. Or let me free. Or at least not harm anyone.

There was still a smile. It was more timid, and his eyes narrowed mockingly, "Oh c'mon Destiny, you can do better than that."

I scowled, "If you weren't so stubborn I would."

"You sure about that?"

No…

I knew I wasn't. I couldn't hurt anybody, let alone someone with those god-like features and innocent eyes. But I leaned my face up towards him, getting on my tip toes, our faces only inches apart.

"Yes," I hissed coldly—lying.

His smile grew wider. A sudden masculine, yet soft expression grew on his face.

"Then show me…" He confirmed, holding my wrists tighter.

I winced at the burn of his hands. His eyes suddenly looked apologetic as he, to my surprise, cooled his skin down to a hot, yet tolerable, level.

"I can't," I said, feeling the impatience show in my expression.

He lowered his eyelids slightly. "And why not?"

"Because you're too strong."

He suddenly turned serious again, his skin starting to go back to its fiery blaze on my wrists, "What if I told you I knew where he is?"

"Where who is?"

"You know who I'm talking about."

"No, I don't," I said, turning as stubborn as he is.

He let go of one of my wrists, but held the other one firmly. He traced the side of my face, from the tip of my eyelid to my cheekbone.

"What if I told you that I knew where your little Kyle was?"

I froze.

He froze.

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the luring tone in his voice. I soon realized that I wasn't breathing, so he took that as an opportunity to go further.

"What if I said that I'm planning to kill him tomorrow night…?"

I suddenly felt a surge of rage flow throughout my veins. My pulse was speeding up by the minute, and I felt a great sensation to try and slap him again—or worse.

I held onto restraint and spoke through gritted teeth, "That's not possible. He's dead already."

"How do you know?" He asked, his eyes suddenly turning cold and gentle. His smile softened, perhaps trying to distract me.

"You were there," I scowled.

"Oh, I know Destiny…."

I swallowed hard, trying to think of comebacks I could throw back. To make _him_ all…stupid! But all that happened was the tremble of my body as the boy traced his finger along my jaw line.

"I saw him…in the coffin…" I could feel tears of impatience come up to my eyes.

He cocked an eyebrow, brushing all his fingers lightly on the side of my neck, "Sure, the body might be dead. But does that mean that his soul is also? Could he still be here, watching you? Protecting you…?"

There was a chilly tone at the end that caused me to shiver.

"He can't."

I furiously grabbed the wrist that held the hand that was swiftly tracing my face. I threw him back, only causing him to reel backwards a step.

"Please…just stop. Its torture enough that I have to deal with it the rest of my life, but to hear that he might still be alive…and that he's out there, alone…" The tears started coming from my eyes, trickling down each of my cheeks.

I finally remembered the very sentence that got me feeling angry. The very thing that was causing my mind to break down and shatter…

_**What if I said that I'm planning to kill him tomorrow night…?**_

The next thing I knew, I leaped forward, crashing into the boy with great force. It caused both of us to fall, with him underneath and me on to. I was on my knees, sitting on chest, and could feel the anger come back as I yelled at him.

"What are you planning to do to him?! Kill him?! Don't you _dare_ touch Kyle! Ever! You got that?!" I narrowed my eyes at him angrily, "If Kyle is still alive and he's out there, trying to find a way to escape from you…I swear I will _kill_ you! If you want to hurt Kyle, you'll have to kill me first!!"

I was strong. Stronger than I thought I was, actually. In voice, not body.

The boy stared at me, his eyes wide with something other than fear. Something other than thinking I was insane. I didn't know if that was a good thing, because I wanted him to be afraid, but he was just…

_Laughing_.

He started laughing!

I furrowed my eyebrows.

He threw his head back, his eyes squeezed closed, his beautiful voice turning into bursts of soft spoken laughter. He lifted me, holding me by my upper arms, and put me off to the side of him so he could sit up.

His strength was beyond human, but that wasn't surprising, showing his beautiful features and voice.

"You're not as strong as I thought, but I guess it's because you haven't gotten angry that often…" His voice drifted, along with his small throaty chuckles.

I narrowed my eyes at him, ready to pounce again if he showed another sign of danger. "Jerk."

"Overreacting loud-mouth," He said, a small smile brightening his gorgeous lips.

I scoffed and turned my head the other way.

"How did I overreact?" I asked, still facing the wall.

"Okay…I can't blame you. I went too far."

I looked over at him. His face was sincere. I almost melted with some strange emotion when he huffed and said, "I'm sorry, Destiny."

Well, at least he was sorry. But I was still demanding an explanation from him. How could he look clueless of why I was looking at him with a twist of pain in my grimace?

"Did I hurt you?" He asked.

"What do you mean?"

He held out his hands in front of him and flexed his fingers.

"When I took you off me, did I hurt you?"

I smiled, feeling a slight bruise growing on my upper arms. So he knew he was that strong all along?

"Just a little. But don't worry about me—"

But it was too late.

He knocked his fists into the wall, causing a dent to burn in. His face was in an angry scowl. His eyes were tight, tighter than his bony knuckled fist, and his upper body trembled with anger.

All of a sudden, he quickly—but gracefully—got up.

"I'm sorry Destiny…I thought I was capable of keeping my strength under control. I am so sorry."

I felt like laughing, seeing how his great gesture went against what he was doing earlier. I closed my eyes, feeling butter flies fly in my stomach. He was more beautiful when he was furious.

"Don't be sorry. It's fine, really. I'm fine…but…"

"But what?" He asked. I could feel the aura around him calm down, but his voice was still tight with furry.

I closed my eyes and put my hands on either side of my upper arms.

"Who are you? Just before you hurt me…"

I looked up after hearing a slight angry growl come through his teeth, seeing that he had winced at me saying that I was hurt. I continued with my eyes locked on his.

"…you were saying you were going to kill Kyle. You said he was still alive. You said—"

Before I could finish my sentence, he knelt down on his knees and put a finger lightly to my lips.

"Ssshhh…I know what I said, Destiny. But that was all to get you angry."

I swallowed hard on the lump in my throat and stared into his intense eyes. I felt everything spin around me.

"What about what you did?" I asked. His finger was still against my lips so it was a little strange to talk.

He watched me with an incredulous look in his eyes, trying to figure out what I was trying to imply. I understood of course, so I rephrased it. But right before I did, he suddenly narrowed his eyes at me.

"Wait, do you mean…"

I coughed, feeling uncomfortable of where the conversation was going.

"I'm truly and deeply sorry about that, too. I wasn't trying to do anything; I was just attempting to get you angrier."

I grimaced, remembering that moment. I liked the touch. No one has touched me that gently or so personally before because of my flashy lifestyle.

"Oh."

"I didn't mean to go too far. I would never do that to you. I promise," He said, "Sorry."

I held up a hand, keeping him from continuing this little line of apologies. "Stop. It's okay. I'm used to it…"

I stopped myself. I knew I shouldn't have let that slip.

His face suddenly burned with anger, his face suddenly turned deep red, and I saw his arms spark. Literally. His lips were pressed into a hard line, and I could see his teeth dig into his bottom lip, keeping from exploding again.

As hard as he tried, I could see that he was flipping out. I tried scooting backward when I suddenly heard an evil growl come from his throat.

He suddenly stood up, and—without blinking—I saw him go out of my room in a furious run.

I couldn't even explain it.

And in about ten minutes of trying to control my heart from dying of exhaustion, I collapsed as I leaned against the wall, still sitting, and still afraid.


End file.
